


people can change (you don’t have to leave him)

by vanillaskin



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: 1980s, Brooklyn, Kissing, Making Up, Manhattan, Mentioned Anpac, Mentioned Commie, Mentioned Minarchist, Mentioned Nazi, New York City, Other, Period-Typical Homophobia, Reconciliation, Skateboarding, Unresolved Sexual Tension, and this whole thing is told in ancap’s perspective so qi is going to be referred to as he, just dudes being bros, this is before ancom came out as nb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26766877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillaskin/pseuds/vanillaskin
Summary: Their argument felt like it lasted centuries. It was back and forth, with Ancap arguing that Ancom can just move in with him, and Ancom arguing that Ancap was being selfish and the Bronx had been their home for way too long for them to leave. Ancap left anyway, despite how painful it was to leave his leftist counterpart. He questioned this, wondering to himself why it was so hard to leave Ancom so suddenly. He thought he would get used to it eventually, the feeling of being alone. He was very wrong.Nearly everyday, Ancap would be calling out for Ancom, conveniently forgetting that they no longer live with one another. Every time those shouts came to no avail, Ancap would find himself with a pit in his heart and a sore stomach at the fact that Ancom wasn’t near, and that he most likely hated him.He had enough of it. If this emotional torment couldn’t be taken out of his system at work by Minarchist, he knew he had to take matters into his own hands.
Relationships: Ancom/Ancap, Libunity
Comments: 16
Kudos: 28





	people can change (you don’t have to leave him)

**Author's Note:**

> let’s go libunity!!!! let’s go!!!!!
> 
> i’m not even an nfr main but now i have two fics based off of the nfr album...... this is based off mariners apartment complex  
> 
> 
> im trying to put my centricide fics within the same universe for continuity purposes but ig you can call this a prequel to fuck it i love you?? this fic is what ancap refers to when he made that comment in his head ab fucking ancom lol. They dated !!!! In the 80s!!!! On the low!!!!Kinda!!! but it’s just guys being bros... haha... heh.... 
> 
> sex with a ghost is just an alternate but not far off timeline but Yeah
> 
> anyways i’m just world-building with a bunch of vaguely connected one shots basically 
> 
> anyways. no betas we die like men
> 
> enjoy

Coloring Ancap as greedy is far from the truth.

The buzz of white noise inside Ancap’s ears boiled inside of him as if he was a sauce pot, the tingle he felt at the tips of his fingers as he held the red rotary phone in his hand, quietly waiting for Ancom to pick up. He was practically shaking, with goosebumps lining his entire body and his jaw quivering beneath his shaky teeth. Ancap always got like this when he was anxious, and normally, he would have a good reason— such as the _New York Post_ making an article that practically destroyed his social life when he was 16 years old, or not being able to pay rent.

He had recently moved out of the Bronx because of the burning, and it was definitely _not_ the safest place to live anymore, (like it ever was.) He only lived there in the first place because of his close relationship friendship with Ancom, who was much more financially inept than him. Ancap had a job in Brooklyn as an accountant, at a small firm and made around 58k per year. His boss was an ideology as well, Minarchist, or Ancap’s personal favorite nickname, Ancap-lite. Ancap always found him repulsive, at least until he got a _major_ raise in his salary, and Ancap will never admit how he got it. 

Besides the burning, he also only moved to Brooklyn to be closer to his job rather than spending half an hour in public transport to get to it everyday. It made sense, he had every reason to leave but Ancom became unnecessarily _angry._ They were roommates, and when Ancap announced to him that he’s moving out and leaving for Brooklyn, Ancom had something close to a breakdown. 

Their argument felt like it lasted centuries. It was back and forth, with Ancap arguing that Ancom can just move in with him, and Ancom arguing that Ancap was being selfish and the Bronx had been their home for way too long for them to leave. Ancap left anyway, despite how painful it was to leave his leftist counterpart. He questioned this, wondering to himself why it was so hard to leave Ancom so suddenly. He thought he would get used to it eventually, the feeling of being alone. He was _very_ wrong. 

Nearly everyday, Ancap would be calling out for Ancom, conveniently forgetting that they no longer live with one another. Every time those shouts came to no avail, Ancap would find himself with a pit in his heart and a sore stomach at the fact that Ancom wasn’t near, and that he most likely hated him. 

He had enough of it. If this emotional torment couldn’t be taken out of his system at work by Minarchist, he knew he had to take matters into his own hands. 

And here he is, making a pathetic phone call to the leftist who most likely won’t even pick up. He wanted to reconcile their friendship, talk things out and try to see what they can do about one another’s living conditions. 

“What do you want, narbo?” Ancom’s voice was bitter and cruel as he spoke to Ancap, he shuddered at the insult. He brushed it off.

“Ancom, I want to give you an apology.” Ancap sounded solemn and awkward, as he rotated on his swivel chair a bit, trying hard to not slam the phone back down onto the red dial.

“Oh really? What’d you do, violate the NAP by yelling at me the way you did?” Ancom snapped at him; and, admittedly, it was hurting Ancap’s feelings. The capitalist had always been sensitive, and has never been able to take any criticism throughout his life. But it always seemed to cut deeper when it was Ancom as the aggressor, and he wasn’t sure why. Ancom is degenerate, way too carefree and considering how old he is, _extremely_ immature. If anything, he should’ve blown any insult Ancom would try to hurl at him off, but he just didn’t know _how._

“No, no.. I just… you make me so happy. You’ve taken me under your wing ever since I started grad school, and you’ve introduced me to so many other ideologies. You gave me the friends I have today, and I feel like it isn’t fair for me to… take you for granted like that. I was wondering if maybe we could go out to dinner and talk things out?” Ancap’s voice was unusually soft, quiet and delicate as he tried to win over Ancom’s sympathy. He’s half-lying, he felt as if that his move away from The Bronx was perfectly justified; and if anything, _Ancom_ was the selfish one. He wasn’t lying about the fact that Ancom introduced Ancap to the other extremists, and helped him develop close companionships in which he would value… probably for the rest of his life. 

“Hmm… that’s interesting. I thought Minarchist was enough for you, you indecisive maggot.” Ancom spat, and the bringing in of Minarchist into the conversation felt unnecessary and uncomfortable to Ancap. He furrowed his brow, his finger of his free hand tapping the desk in nervousness as he responds,

“Are you seriously jealous of my boss?” Ancap accused, his voice accidentally raising as he spoke.

“Can we please stop pretending for just a _second_ that there _wasn’t_ anything going on between us or you and Minarchist? Just for a second.” Ancap’s heart dropped at Ancom’s implication of homosexuality, which Ancap refused to accept. He didn’t like when Ancom spoke of these matters so freely, especially considering they’re living through the AIDS crisis at the moment— and you never knew who could possibly be listening. The last thing Ancap wanted was for someone to be telephone tapping into their conversation and assuming the two ideologies were homosexuals. Ancap, though knowing how… uncomfortably close him and Ancom were, didn’t consider it particularly _gay,_ but rather… a very close companionship. 

Him and Minarchist were weird. The awkward side glances, unresolved tension, and the body language flirting was enough to trigger most alarm bells for most bystanders, but it wasn’t in the way that most people would have assumed it was. That was on Ancap’s part though, at the very least— most things you can assume with Minarchist just by simply _looking_ at him were most likely correct. 

They had first met at the job interview Ancap had to get the job he has today. Ancap blew the interview— with his nerves getting the better of him and stuttering over his own words, he sounded like a himbim. He was surprised, though, when Minarchist called him to tell him that he won the position. He was convinced that it was just because he’s an ideology, and Minarchist would probably rather a fellow ideology be in close contact with him at his job rather than be smothered by the amount of civilians he works with everyday. They got along… fine, Ancap was often found slacking off (I mean, what do you expect if you hire an anarchist,) and Minarchist would often scold Ancap for little things, such as not organizing the financial records in the way Minarchist wanted him to. 

They slowly became more fond of one another over the course of around a year or two, and it was the night when Ancap invited Ancom to the building’s Christmas party when things went on a downward spiral towards destruction. He and Minarchist danced that night, and after a few chugs of spiked eggnog they were dancing as if they were a couple, which most of their civilian co-workers found amusing. Ancap noticed Ancom’s glares throughout that night, and he had some sense of guilt resonating in him that he dragged the communist to some Christmas party where he doesn’t know anybody, and he isn’t even taking the time to include him. He didn’t act on that guilt, though, rather ignoring it and spending his time with Minarchist while he could. This caused a dent in his and Ancom’s friendship, and personally, Ancap didn’t think it was that big of a deal, but _god_ could Ancom keep grudges. 

Ancom had always been a bit possessive of Ancap, and Ancap figured that was just how Ancom is and also the fact that Ancap is only 36. He didn’t realize that this possessiveness would be the pitfall to Ancom’s outbursts, though, and in all honesty, Ancap felt like the bigger person despite never issuing Ancom an apology.

“I, uh, don’t know how to respond to that.” Ancap said, his hands fidgeting as he heard Ancom on the other side of the line let out a long sigh. 

“What do you want from this? For me to move in with you or something? Is that the end goal? Because I can tell you for a _fact_ it’s not happening-“ Ancap noticed the sound of wind and people laughing and talking in the faint background. Ancap felt awkward if he was having this conversation while Ancom was in public, so he couldn’t help but ask-

“Where are you right now?” Ancap asked with no pause in between him and Ancom’s responses. He heard Ancom’s breath hitch then sigh, before the leftist responded,

“I’m at the skatepark right now, why?” Ancap should’ve figured this, Ancom was _always_ at the skatepark during his free time. Ancap didn’t understand the appeal himself, as Ancom had no friends there and it would seem awkward to have a bunch of civilians possibly stare at you as you try to do ‘ _tricks.’_

“On my way.” Ancap said it suddenly with no thought to it, an extreme burst of confidence as he lifted himself off his swivel chair, and normally he wouldn’t be so… forward, but when he’s determined to fix things he’ll fix them, even if it is at Ancom’s inconvenience. He knew that Ancom was always more brave and bold on the phone than in person, and if he was going to ever get anywhere in this in conversation it would have to be held in person, whether Ancom liked it or not.

“What? Ancap-“ He hung up.

  
  
  
  
  


It was a long trip. Ancap decided to take the subway rather than his car, fully knowing that it would take much longer but he could care less— he hated driving in New York traffic, and if Ancom was already gone by the time he got there, it wouldn’t be hard to find him considering he always goes to the same five locations.

Walking to the skatepark was second nature for Ancap. He knew the route by heart, for when he lived in The Bronx he would sometimes walk to it with Ancom when they knew it was going to be empty so they could have some time alone, together, outside and under the moonlight. When they did this, it was nice; Ancap would sit at the benches and watch Ancom do… whatever he did, the wheels skidding against the smooth concrete felt like music to the Capitalist’s ears as he relished in Ancom showing off his natural talent. 

Ancom always tried to teach Ancap how to skate as well, but Ancap was always hesitant and got scared whenever he stood on top of it. Ancap was always embarrassed about this fact, though, feeling as if he was lame and uncool. He would never admit this, but he always wanted to be more like Ancom, who had a broader social life, strong drinking tolerance, good taste in music, got more girls than him, did everything better than him and was just overall _cooler_ than the capitalist.

The air reeked of pollution and the smell of cigarettes as Ancap approached the skatepark, hearing the blaring sound of _New Kids On The Block_ mixed with the laughs and voices of young adults and teenagers. Ancap felt sudden social anxiety, standing around the corner, feeling extreme awkwardness in the presence of many civilians. He mostly felt this because his beliefs weren’t very popular among civilians, and he constantly felt as if he was being judged and stared at whenever he walked the streets among the civilians’ wandering eyes.

On a leap of faith, Ancap turned the corner, being immediately greeted with seeing a bunch of civilian men dropping into the pit, kick flipping, and only a few were obviously trying to impress the girls who sat at the edges, watching them while drinking and smoking. How did Ancom even fit in with these people, more or less even want to go near them? They looked intimidating and carefree, the type of people who it would be your worst fear to embarrass yourself in front of. He bit his lip as he watched them, trying to spot Ancom among them, but he came to no avail.

He decided to ask one of them if they knew where he went, but he was unsure which one was the most approachable. He casually walked towards the women, who seemed as if they weren’t having that much conversation as they watched, and openly asked-

“Hey, do you know where Ancom went?” He scratched his neck as two of the girls turned to face him. Only one responded.

“Um… oh! Yeah, yeah, he went over to North Star cafe. He might be back soon, though. He’s getting food for all of us. You can wait here, if you want.” Surprisingly, she was nice. Too nice.

“Um, yeah, sure.” He said nervously, his voice nearly breaking halfway through. The girl shifted over a bit to give Ancap room to sit next to her, and Ancap never felt more uncomfortable in his _life._ How does Ancom do this? Is he friends with them? 

“So, do you know how to skate?” She asked, and her New York accent was strong, dominating the conversation wildly.

“Oh, no I don’t. I’m just here because I need to talk with Ancom.” He chuckled awkwardly, his eyes raking over her to take in her appearance. She wore a red baseball cap backwards on her head, a thin black sweater with fold-over jeans. She had very long, dark hair and looked Colombian, and she couldn’t have been past the age of 20. She didn’t have a particularly mean face as he thought she did, now that he looked closer at her. 

“Bummer. Why doesn’t Ancom teach you? He’s the best guy here, y’know?” She slapped her hand on her knee as she said it.

“No, it’s a me problem. I’m just too chicken.”

“Bet you would rather be cold lampin’ at home right now.”

“For sure.”

“So, what ideology are you?” 

Ancap gulped, freezing before he responded. He wanted to lie so she didn’t think he was weird, but he was scared that she would find out anyways.

“Who knows?” He laughed, pushing his glasses up further onto his nose. She laughed.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know my name either, so you’re good.” Ancap smiled a little at the fact that she didn’t press more.

“Schweet.” 

There was a long silence, with Ancap staring at the guys rolling and falling in the pit as the red-hatted girl would allow him to have some sips of her most likely spiked iced coffee. He felt as if he didn’t fit in, and looked out of place, especially with his aura and the way he dressed. It felt like he was in high school again, considering that half of the people here are probably still in high school or are in college. Either way, it doesn’t matter— he looked like the ugly duckling among a group of yellows. 

“How do you know Ancom?” She broke the silence after around five or six minutes.

“Oh, we used to be roommates.” 

“Oh, so _you’re_ Ancap? Alright, I see how it is.” She said it with a mischievous grin, smiling against the straw she had against her teeth. Ancap scrunched his brows for only a second, pursing his lips as he tried to figure out whether that was good or bad.

“The one and only.” He muttered.

“He’s probably going to ralph all over you when he comes back. He specifically told me not to let you stay here and wait for him, but he never listens to me when I speak, so why should I listen to _him?_ ” She said it with sass, avoiding eye contact with Ancap the entire time.

“Oh.” Ancap laughed, his brain suddenly forming pits in his stomach, fearing Ancom blowing up on him in public. He bit his lip, thinking that if he was going to confront Ancom it _really_ should not be for a crowd of civilians to see. “I should probably talk to him in private, then.” 

He stood up hastily, the woman looking up at him with her eyebrows furrowed, looking as if she was about to laugh at him again.

“You might be able to catch him if you go to the cafe right now. You know where it is, right?”

“Yeah, I do.” Ancap said quickly, walking away in the opposite direction from where he came from, trying to remember the walking route to North Star without stopping from walking. He didn’t want to look stupid.

“Dope _!_ ” She shouted at him in response, her voice filling the air just as fast as it left. After this, he was never going to see her again.

  
  
  
  
  


The sun was setting in the distance, the sky aligned with purple, orange and yellow decorated clouds as a golden light illuminated Ancap’s figure. It felt hot wearing what he wore, which was baggy, dark jeans that were tied tightly to his waist by a brown belt, and a yellow, silk button up with purple patterning. He quickly took off his grayish newsboy hat, and fanned it a bit on his face before situating it back onto his head. He had been walking for around five minutes, and he saw the cafe’s wavering sign in the distance. 

He hoped that this dent in him and Ancom’s friendship would only last from July to July, and not anything past that. Ancap wasn’t very good at convincing people to do what he wants, but what he _is_ good at is playing the victim enough to make them feel bad enough so they go by his will. Is that manipulation? Honestly, he could probably care less. If that doesn’t work, he could probably just pay the communist.

The concrete was dirty as the sounds of the city filled the air, with people walking past Ancap who were probably heading home. There were street shops selling burgers, hotdogs, and pizzas, and the smell of the foods made Ancap a bit hungry. He paused a bit, seeing the cafe was only a few steps away but decided to stop so he could get a hotdog.

“You’re glowing pretty bright there, must mean you’re hungry, eh?” The street vendor’s accent was heavier than the woman’s as he made the remark to Ancap. Ancap smiled at him shortly, before looking at the dirty, printed menu that was plastered on the glass that separated the two. He wanted a chili cheese dog.

“Mhm. May I have a chili cheese dog?” 

“Comin’ right up for ya.” The vendor’s voice sounded very breathy and raspy. Ancap figured it was because he was getting old and civilians somehow… deteriorated causing them to develop various diseases. That disgusted Ancap. If he ever were to own his own business, though, he would probably try to find a way to profit off of attempting to make civilians live longer. Is that just a hospital? Yeah, that’s what he wants. Ancap wants to privately own a hospital so he can charge people for every little thing they are given there. Paradise.

“I have a son that’s an ideology too, y’know.” The vendor says, snapping Ancap out of his trance.

“Oh really? What’s his name?” 

“Anarcho-Hotdogism.” The vendor laughed as he said it, hoping the joke would land right with Ancap. It didn’t, Ancap found the joke annoying, but he laughed anyway. 

“Alright.. well, here’s your dog. That’ll be a buck.” He handed the food to Ancap in a paper tray that had a red and white pattern on it. Ancap paid him and threw in an extra dollar there because the vendor took the time out of his day to try and make a joke.

“Thanks. Have a good night.” Ancap said, nodding off as he walked away, hearing the vendor reciprocate in the distance, but he didn’t turn around. The hotdog was good, not too hot, not too hard, and not too soft. He was just outside the cafe now, and if it weren’t for its broad, big windows, Ancap would probably eat the hotdog outside before going in because it is very… awkward to walk into a cafe with food already in your hand. You couldn’t blame the anarchist, though; if he craves a hotdog, he’ll get a hot dog. Simple. He decided to walk in with the dog in his hand, though, because he doesn’t want Ancom to see him standing outside the restaurant he’s in eating a hotdog like a _stalker._

As he pushed the door open, he darted his eyes around a bit before he spotted Ancom sitting at a booth alone. There were only a few other civilians in the cafe, which should be expected because this was a place mainly for breakfast. 

“Ancom!” Ancap said with some relief and happiness in his tone as he approached where Ancom sat, happy to see the communist after two long, excruciating weeks. Ancom darted his head to look at Ancap and , suddenly started holding his skateboard with a tighter grip as he watched Ancap sit down across from him. 

“What are you doing here?” Ancom said in a low tone, bringing his plate of fries closer to himself.

“I just wanted to make things up with you. I miss you a lot, y’know. You’re my best friend and I really feel like our friendship shouldn’t end over some stupid fight about who lives where.” Ancap said, taking another bite of his hotdog. Ancom’s eye twitched twice at what Ancap said, both at the ‘best friend,’ and ‘friendship.’ 

“Can’t be that urgent if you had time to get a goddamn hotdog on the way here.” Ancom muttered coldly, his head in his right hand as he messed with the fries on his plate with his free fingers.

“Hey _!_ Come on, a man gots to do what he gots to do. Plus, you know that New York chili cheese dogs are bitchin’.” Ancap said with a smile, watching as Ancom covered his own eyes a bit before laughing quietly. 

“You’re such a fucking… I can’t with you.” Ancom said quietly as he sat up straight once again. Ancap smirked, knowing his intuition was right about how Ancom would be much more passive in person than on the phone. 

“Alright then, let’s cut to the chase. You were right. I can't live without you. Living alone feels so lonely, and we’re really close n’ all since we’ve lived together for the past six years. I’m really just here two offer two things, one, you can just come move in with me in Brooklyn, or, I’ll move out of Brooklyn just as fast as I moved in and come back home, to the Bronx. To you.” Ancap said, the ‘to you,’ a little quieter than the rest of the speech. Ancom heard it through, and smirked slightly. He refrained himself from commenting on it.

“I don’t want to move to Brooklyn, though. But I also don’t want you to have to go out of your way to move back here, but I _really_ want to live with you… I just don’t know.” Ancom said, avoiding eye contact with Ancap as he took a bit of his fries.

“So you’re indecisive now? Sounds a bit centrist to me.” Ancap joked, and it caused Ancom to grow a blush on his face.

“Shut up, you know what I mean.” He said quickly. They were such perfect caricatures of an ENTP and ENFP arguing that it was almost comical. Ancom looked conflicted, his face flushed and pinked as he tried to think of a solution to their problem, but to no avail. Ancap smiled, thinking that he held the power in the conversation, forcing Ancom to try and put an end to their argument.

“Sorry. I just… these two weeks have been very stressful without you. Plus, I can barely pay rent even with the job I have.” Ancap was interrupted before he could continue.

“Don’t you make over 4,600 a month?” Ancom questioned, sitting up again as he raised a brow at the capitalist.

“You know how I am, always paying people for every little thing… way too generous of me.” Ancap sighed. He wasn’t lying, for every small act of kindness he receives from a stranger he attempts to give them money for it, which half of the time they take. He felt as if that was necessary, because what did he do to deserve getting helped up when he trips, or vague walking directions to go somewhere? Precious time and energy must be worth _something._

“Yeah, that and your retail therapy.” Ancom snapped, causing Ancap to grow a deep blush on his face. The communist wasn’t wrong, either— everytime something upsetting happens to Ancap he feels the need to go to the mall and waste his money on new clothes, furniture, food, and self-care items. This often caused inconveniences for the capitalist, not being able to fit all of his clothes in his closet, not enough space in the bathroom to put his self-care items, and unnecessary, repulsive decorations that Ancom would always throw out when Ancap wasn’t paying attention; and _god_ was he _extremely_ lucky to have a fast metabolism.

“I really don’t want to lose you, Ancom. You mean a lot to me, and if we were actually going to end this friendship I would pay you quite a few million for wasting so much time on me. Let’s just try and figure things out, alright?” Ancap said with a small smile on his face, trying to soothe a distressed Ancom with his gentle words.

“You’re so cute.” Ancom remarked sweetly, resting his cheek on his right hand as he stared at Ancap, who’s eyes shot wide for only a second at the remark. Ancom looked as if he was saying this due to taking sarcastic offense to what Ancap was saying— and he normally did things such as this in conversation to belittle the other. The capitalist jolted his head to the side quickly to see if anyone heard what Ancom said, but luckily, they were quite a distance away from the others few people inside the cafe. They were safe.

“Ancom, you know I hate when you do this…” Ancap shook and tripped over his own voice, fiddling with his fingers just as he set down his hotdog on the table, suddenly no longer hungry.

“You go into this gay panic when I barely even compliment you, no wonder you can barely function without me. You’re obsessed with me.” It was obvious that Ancom was only teasing to mock Ancap, but Ancap got more and more embarrassed and flustered as Ancom went on with it. 

“I bet you want to kiss me right now,” Ancom said, leaning forward against the table between them to break the distance between him and Ancap. Ancap’s jaw quivered, his social anxiety growing as he didn’t dare look to see if anyone was watching. His ‘faint’ attraction to men was embarrassing, shameful, and could quite possibly get him murdered, embarrassing any civilian that might possibly share his beliefs. 

“Can’t imagine you topping me, though. I guess we could just rub dicks instead, you would _probably_ be moaning like a girl though-“ Ancom’s teasing soon became short-lived.

“Shut _up!_ ” Ancap shouted without thinking, causing Ancom to sit back straight into his seat and few civilians staring at them who weren’t staring before. A deathly, embarrassing silence washed over the entire cafe, and _especially_ onto Ancap. Deep self-consciousness and discomfort settled into him as he quickly went silent, realizing what he had just done.

“What’s your problem?“ Ancom’s voice was quiet yet so cruel, but was cut off by a disstressed Ancap.

“Can we talk somewhere else? Like, outside? In your car if you brought it?” Ancap said, darting his eyes to look anywhere except where Ancom sat. They needed privacy, and it was becoming increasingly obvious that the two ideologies couldn’t contain their obvious feelings for one another to themselves and themselves only. 

“Sure, whatever. Fine.”

  
  
  
  
  


Ancom’s car smelt worse than he last remembered. It reeked of the smell of cigarettes, booze, and vomit. He knew well just by the smell that Ancom was having a just as bad time, if not worse time, trying to readjust to living alone. Ancom’s look matched the aesthetic of the car, with his large, slightly too big green sweatshirt untucked over his baggy jeans. He looked worn, and with his aura considerably weak, he looked as if he was on the verge of _death._ It didn’t matter, though— if Ancap and Ancom were to settle their differences soon, Ancap knew the best groomers that would help Ancom look alive again. 

The atmosphere was awkward and uncomfortable, and with Ancap’s small outburst embarrassing them both, they weren’t sure where to start. Ancap glanced over at Ancom, who closed his eyes for a second, taking deep breaths. He was about to speak.

“Ancap, I have a couple of things I need to say, but I really just want to make one thing clear with you.” Ancom’s voice was in a tone that Ancap had never heard before— steady, masculine, and serious. It made Ancap quite nervous, a sweat breaking on his forehead as he nodded in response to the communist. 

“You left me at one of the worst times of my life. From my perspective, you bailed on our relationship because you didn’t know how to handle being around someone with mental health issues. I wasn’t eating, I was having these horrible, constant intrusive thoughts, I could barely even get out of bed… and then you decided to leave me. Why would you do that to me, to anybody? Are you scared of me?” Ancom sounded broken as he said it, tears welling in his eyes as he stared at Ancap, whose jaw quivered at Ancom’s words. He gulped, unsure on what to say without sounding too defensive. He didn’t mean for Ancom to think this, hell, it was his own fault for not paying attention enough to Ancom to notice this. If he did, he probably wouldn’t have left the moment he did, and would’ve stayed a bit longer. He bit his cheek, trying to stop himself from saying ‘I can compensate you in cash if you like.’ He knew Ancom hated that.

“Of course I’m not scared of you, Ancom, I just… I didn’t know. My mind was in this war on whether to leave or not to leave, because of the burning and all. I didn’t even notice that you weren’t being yourself as of then. I was being selfish and only paid attention to my own thoughts, and I’m sorry. I truly am.” Ancap said, his voice strained as he said it. They both rested their hands on the armrest console, and Ancap had a temptation to put his hand over Ancom’s— but he refrained. 

“I can’t imagine how traumatizing it must have been for you, moving into a new borough just to see it all burn… and living with the thought that if you ever leave that it’ll just happen again, wherever you go. It all just _burns._ ” Ancom said, his fingers fidgeting at the cup holder as he looked at them, avoiding eye contact with Ancap— avoiding true connection. Ancom was right on the point on how Ancap truly felt; the only reason he didn’t flee the Bronx during the burning was because he was scared. Scared that wherever he may go next, he’s going to fuck it up like he did all the other times. He fucked up basically everything he _touched._ He emotionally broke Anarcho-Pacifist in high school, he drove his dormmate to drop out of fucking _Columbia University,_ hell, he even killed Anpac’s _dog._

“Yeah, that’s… exactly how I feel, Ancom.” He mumbled, staring at Ancom, who looked as if he was about to break down.

“Another thing. Since we are alone, I’m going to say it straight-up, and _please_ don’t interrupt me, okay?” Ancom asked, begging for confirmation with his eyes.

“I won’t.” Ancap said it in a way that Ancom could barely even hear him, but the lip movements were enough for Ancom to understand. The communist’s breath hitched, before saying,

“I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable earlier. Even though no one heard, I know the idea of being outed, especially in the world we live in, is… terrifying. We could get killed living where we live. I need to learn to respect that, that shit just isn’t funny, and me using the humor to cope shouldn’t be forced upon you.” Ancom said with an apologetic voice. Ancap looked at him, nodding, as he felt tears blur his vision. He hated talking about this, but he didn’t want to stop, he wanted to hear what Ancom had to say.

“There is something obviously between us, though, let’s not just deny that with each other. I know we’ve never kissed or anything of that sort, but I know you feel it because I feel it too. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. After all, we are just friends. Very… close best friends. And because of our differences, maybe we aren’t truly meant for each other. I know that for sure, but… I just want to help you figure out who you are. Protect you. Can I do that for you, Ancap? Will you let me help you?” Ancom’s words hit Ancap directly in the chest as he feels Ancom rest his smaller hand over Ancap’s larger. Ancap’s felt his aura glow bigger than before as he also watched Ancom’s start to gleam as well. He looked at Ancom, hesistant on what to do, say, or feel— it was all so much, too much. To much to feel. It felt like a tsunamic rushing over his mind, his body and collapsing onto him like a weighted blanket. He needed to release it, release it onto someone-

Ancap kissed Ancom with no warning, and it took Ancom a second to realize what was going on before kissing back. The kiss wasn’t coordinated whatsoever— it was sloppy, hungry, and desperate. Ancap had never kissed someone before, and he had no _clue_ what he was even doing but he didn’t care. He knew Ancom wouldn’t either, if Ancom meant what he meant. The wave of relief and ecstasy rode out as they kissed, Ancap only parting after a few short seconds.

“Please don’t tell anybody.” He said it in a shaky voice, his lips red and wet as he looked at Ancom, sounding as if he was on the verge of tears.

“I would never,” Ancom squeezed Ancap’s hand. “Ever.”

“Thank you.” Ancap said, a singular year coming out of his left eye, glossing over his faint freckles. He felt warm. He felt safe.

“Commie recently moved here from Moscow into Nazi’s 4 bedroom apartment up in Manhattan.” Ancom said quietly, making sure to ennunciate the ‘4 bedroom.’ Ancap slowly catches on to what Ancom was suggesting on how to fix their whole living situation. It made him smirk slightly, finding the idea of Nazi and Ancom living together comical.

“Are you suggesting..?”

“Yeah, yup. Fuck the Bronx. Fuck Brooklyn. Let’s just.. go somewhere else. Perhaps a 4 person communal space? You know Commie will force Nazi to let us move in, and we _all_ know Nazi wouldn’t just kick out Commie for begging him so much.” Ancom smirked, the mood of the atmosphere lightening as Ancap smiled back. The idea of starting over in the heart of The Big Apple seemed very appealing to Ancap. It was a good idea anyway, because Ancom and Ancap would rarely ever pay rent due to them being anarchists. With some totalitarians in the apartment, things could possibly go a lot smoother— and Ancap _seriously_ questioned his own individuality by thinking that thought. Who cares.

“Let’s do it, then. Let’s go to Manhattan.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> two bottoms don’t make a top
> 
> anyways i now have an urge to write a fic where ancap and ancom try to culture-fy commie by introducing him to tupac and biggies music
> 
> tell me if it sucked.
> 
> twitter : anarchobeck


End file.
